War Note
by MorbidSmiles
Summary: When Sasori's friends get worried about him, one of them forces him to write a letter. That letter's recipient just happens to be a soldier fighting in Afganistan. Why is it that the people you don't know always impact your life the most? AU. Three-shot. Slight SasoDei. Rated for cussing, innuendo, and possible gore.
1. Boredom will attempt Suicide

I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror, taking in messy red hair and bloodshot grey-brown eyes.

My name is Sasori Akasuna, and I have no reason to live for.

I'm not suicidal. No. Not even relatively depressed. I'm just jaded.

My day is boring and tedious, I wake up, take a shower, go to work, eat dinner, and then go to sleep, only to wake up again and continue the exhaustingly dull cycle.

I could change the cycle. Quit work, maybe. Marry someone? I'm a jackass like that. Unfortunately, I'm also horribly uncreative.

And possibly asexual. But that's another story that would be a bitch to write down.

I have friends, though. And I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing.

Needless to say, I haven't spoken to them in a reasonably long time. They're stubborn, I must admit. That's why, after four months of ignoring their phone calls, one of them came to check up on me.

If only I hadn't given him a spare key.

* * *

I work as a designer for a makeup company, something that my friends all enjoy teasing me about. I don't make the makeup, however, instead designing the signs that advertise the company. Of course, this causes me to work at home, too.

I was working on one of these signs (one that had me inconceivably stumped), when my friend came into my messy apartment.

He came almost straight into my workroom, as if he knew I would be in there.

He didn't greet me or even wait for me to acknowledge him, he simply started talking. This is why I like my friends. As blunt as ever.

"C'mon, dude," said the ginger, throwing an empty instant ramen cup at me, "You have to get out sometimes. Honestly! You barely even talk to the small amount of friends you _do_ have! Go out there. Mingle. Get a girlfriend. Impregnate her with your-"

I threw a pencil at his head. It got stuck in his vibrant orange hair.

It was rather amusing, actually.

"I'd rather shave my head than do that, Yahiko, and you know it."

Yahiko grinned. "You know, that might not be the worst idea."

I hit him with my sketchbook.

"Okay! Okay!" laughed the ginger, rubbing the back of his head almost sheepishly, "Seriously though. You have to talk to someone. Preferably someone with breasts-"

"Shut. Up."

He grinned that same obnoxious grin. "Fine, since you're such a spoilsport, I took the liberty to get the address of some of the ladies that may be your type. Old and grumbly. Yum."

I scowled at him, choosing to ignore that last part. "Why the address?" I asked uninterestedly, "And you better not say, 'because I want you to get laid.'"

"Nah. You're just 'old-fashioned', so I figured that you may want to write a letter."

"A letter?" I deadpanned.

"Hey! Don't get on my case, I'm just trying ta' help! …At least consider it, Saso?"

I rolled my eyes and muttered a grumbly, "Fine."

My friend patted my head, much to my bemusement, and walked out of my apartment, characteristically shouting, "And don't forget the condoms!"

I scoffed and continued to work.

Should her lipstick be a whorey red or an 'elegant' black? Both were popular colors, these days.

* * *

It has been five months since Yahiko visited, and is now January.

This normally wouldn't bug me, but with the winter came a massive snowstorm. Work is now cancelled.

Although this is probably a good thing, I can't get around the feeling that fate is screwing with me.

I sat in my workroom, drinking hot cocoa and aimlessly contemplating cleaning up my apartment, when my eyes caught sight of my desk, or, more specifically, the sack of papers on it.

I promised Yahiko that I would at _least_ look at them…

I sighed in annoyance and picked up the papers, skimming through the first one.

There was a picture of the girl, her name, phone number, e-mail, address, occupation and status. I must admit, comparing it to Yahiko's other works, this was rather organized.

I studied the information of all the women.

Too slutty. Easy. Easy. Married. Easy. Drug Dealer. Easy. Easy. Lawyer. Easy. Is really a man. Easy- wait a minute…

I frowned at the last paper, or more precisely, the bold red letters on it.

'_SEND A LETTER TO AMERICA'S TROUPS TODAY!'_

* * *

"What is this?" I ask Yahiko, shoving the paper in front of his face.

"It's a dead tree," he answers nonchalantly, turning around to face me.

I growl savagely at him. "You know what I mean, Uzumaki," I snarl, using his last name to show him that I am completely serious, "You better answer. Patience is not one of my virtues."

My friend grins and shrugs. "I just put that there in case you were gay."

I twitch and shoot him a death glare.

"What?" he says, putting up his hands defensively, "Dress shirts and slacks don't exactly show off your testosterone."

"Tell me the real reason you gave it to me," I growl, waving it in front of his overly pierced face.

He frowns hesitantly and sighs. "I talk to one of the soldiers via letters. He's really cool, actually. Name's Madara. He has no family left, so before me, no one sent him anything. I don't want any of the other soldiers to go through the same thing."

I roll my eyes at the corniness, and the sincere tone his voice took. "How do you know he isn't the only one? Besides, how old is he, fifty?"

Yahiko frowned angrily at me. "He's twenty-one."

I blink at that. Twenty-one? That means that he was three years younger than Yahiko and I.

"Seriously, Sasori. I can understand not wanting to talk to a girl. That just means you're a homosexual. But now wanting to talk to the ones fighting for our country? That just means you're a bastard."

"I _am_ a bastard. I thought we already established that," I scoff, crossing my arms stubbornly.

"Just… consider it Sasori."

I blinked as Yahiko stormed out of the room, then glanced at the piece of paper still in my hand.

I sighed, then headed to the minimart to buy a stamp.

* * *

**NO POV**

Dim lights flickered slightly, illuminating the rather small room. Several cheap-looking bunk-beds occupied the space, some of which were occupied. Most of the people in the room were normal looking, brown hair and dark eyes, slightly tanned skin and grinning at nothing. However, two of the tenants were exactly the opposite.

They both sat in the bunk-bed closest to the right wall. The one sitting on the bottom bunk had messy black hair and dark chocolaty brown eyes, his skin a pale ivory. The one sitting on the top was drawing in a sketchbook almost nonchalantly. His flaxen gold hair was long, half of it pulled into a messy topknot and the rest flowing down his shoulders and ending a bit below the nape of his neck, a fringe of it covering his right eye. His eyes were a stormy blue, and were sharp and exotic looking, his skin sun-kissed.

On closer inspection, one would see that they were, rather one-sidedly, bickering.

"But, _Sempai!_ Sparkles _are _necessary!" insisted the rather childish black-haired male, his lower lip jutting out slightly in a cute manner.

The blonde on the top bunk snorted, reaching over to roughly ruffle the blackett's hair. "The enemies would see you from a mile away, Madara."

Madara puffed his cheeks out childishly and crossed his arms, leaning back and sprawling across his bed. "Fine. I wouldn't put them on my uniform, _but_ you still have to admit that sparkles are awesome, Deidara-sempai."

Deidara rolled his eyes and ignored Madara's claim, choosing to continue sketching aimlessly, his boyish face scrunching up at the paper.

On the opus was the face of a boy looking about the age of three, untidy hair, mischievous eyes, a wide grin, and three barely visible marks resembling whiskers across each of his childishly plump cheeks. A boy at about the age of six stood behind him, smirking lazily and doing the loser sign at the younger boys head. This boy had more slanted, mature eyes and hair going down to a bit above his shoulders.

Deidara smirked fondly at the drawing, running his fingers across the three-year olds face and smudging the lines slightly.

The loud slam of a door broke the blond from his musings.

The 2nd Luey* walked through the doorway, grinning like a madman and holding a sack of letters behind his back. "Letters are here!"

Most of the men laughed and let out whoops of joy as they asked the lieutenant if they got any mail.

"Uchiha!" he called loudly, "Loverboy* sent ya something."

The blackett grinned widely and rushed towards the lieutenant, grabbing his envelope and squeeing in fangirl-esque joy.

Deidara rolled his eyes and scoffed from his sanctuary on the top bunk.

The Lieutenant reached back into his bag and pulled out the last notelet, frowning thoughtfully before smirking. "Oi, Blondie! You've been assigned a 'pen-pal.'"

The blonde twitched in annoyance from where he lay. "Why would I want a pen-pal? All they are is a bunch of do-gooders wanting to write to us to ease their 'aching' conscious."

Madara took Deidara's letter from the man and walked over to their shared bunk, waving it in front of his face. "C'mon, Sempai, you know you want to~" cooed the blackett teasingly, grinning mischievously.

The blonde twitched and poked his friend on the forehead, causing him to fall over. Then sighed and said, "Fine. Give it to me and then go read the love-note from your gay lover."

Madara pouted, "Yi'ko isn't gay."

Deidara smirked when he noticed that he didn't say, '_I'm_ not gay.'

"Whatever," said the blonde, his smirk widening and waving his hand dismissingly at the blackett. Deidara pulled the letter from his friends hand and opened it, starting to read.

'_To whom it may concern,'_

Deidara snorted at the formal greeting.

'_My name is Sasori Akasuna._

_Before we go further with this, I'd like to notify you that I don't really care that you are part of the army. My life is too depressing already to worry about a bunch of random people on the other side of the world that I don't even know. I have a hard job, and barely ever talk to anyone besides my work associates, so my friends got worried and tried to hook me up. Honestly, I'd rather speak to you then a random slut they pulled off the street. My friend writes to a soldier, and recommended (forced) for me to send a letter. Along with a bunch of other sappy stuff that I'd rather not write._

_I don't know really what to say, but I guess I should tell you a bit about myself._

_I'm a male (obviously). I'm twenty-four years old. I work as a designer for Avon (I'd rather you not tease me about that.) I was born on the 8__th__ of November, so I'm a Scorpio (and my name means Scorpion in Japanese. I'm pretty sure my parents did that on purpose.) My parents died when I was five (car crash; how unoriginal), so I was raised by my grandmother. I moved out when I was seventeen. My friends are insane, and most of the time I'd rather not associate with them._

_My favorite color is blue. My favorite type of ice-cream is vanilla. My favorite spice is cinnamon, and I like sweet things. My favorite fruit are blackberries._

_I'm a 'loner', I guess, and don't really enjoy conversing with people. I'm a ginger, and the stereotype that we don't have souls is pretty apt when talking about me. I'm a bastard and proud of it.'_

Deidara chuckled at that. What a jackass.

'_I'm kind of short, but god, you mess with me and I'll screw up your face._

_I've had several girlfriends, and all of them were whiny sluts. I broke up with them after about two weeks of all their bitching. I don't get into relationships anymore, so I guess that means I'm asexual. And frankly, I'm okay with that._

_All of my girlfriends were blonde. This fact disturbs me, and I hope you don't bring it up._

_I'm an atheist. I was a Christian, but stopped believing the moment I heard my parents died._

_I was born in Scotland. Laugh all you want, but it's true. My mother was American and my father was Scottish. They moved to the USA with my grannie a few months after I was born. I grew up in Seattle, then moved to New York freshmen year and stayed there._

_I'm a pessimist, and was diagnosed as clinically depressed at age twelve. But I'm okay now._

_Screw depression._

_I have one tattoo on my ankle; it's my name in Japanese._

_I am an artist, and I believe art to be eternal; perpetual beauty surviving through the worst of catastrophes and admired by all generations.'_

Deidara scowled slightly at this. Art was fleeting.

'_I'm impatient. I'm cold. I'm a douchebag. What more is there to say?_

_You probably won't reply. But whatever. I can deal with that._

_I just hope you aren't a moron._

_Sincerely,_

_Sasori Akasuna.'_

Deidara reread the note, smiling incredulously. What a tightass. Heh.

This was going to be fun.

**A/N: My first chapter story. :D YAY!**

**I'm already finished the second chappie, but I won't post it until I finish the third chapter. :D I'll post it if you awesome readers send me three reviews. :D Pretty please? ;3;**

***1 "2nd Luey" is a 'nickname' for the second lieutenant.**

***2 'Loverboy' is Yahiko. They like to say that Y'iki is Tobi's lover. :D**

**R&R! :D**


	2. I Lost him before I Met him

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, or any of these Characters.**

**SASORI'S POV**

I don't care if that person replies or not.

So why am I anxiously waiting for the mailman?

I sigh and pull the curtains over the window I was peeking out of.

'_Why are you so anxious, Sasori?' _I think,_ 'It's only been a few days. Besides, how do you even know that they have paper?'_

I frown, knowing that ultimately, the voice inside my head was correct.

That sounded weird.

I flop onto the couch and sigh in boredom. Why did they have to give me a day off?

I glance around the room, taking in random empty instant ramen cups and papers strewn messily around. Maybe I should clean up?

I stand up and glace at my feet, my eyes meeting with a used condom and the book, '50 shades of Grey.' Ew, definitely not cleaning up now. Dammit, why does Yahiko always leave his stuff here?

Scrunching up my face, I kick Yahiko's shit under my desk and flop back down onto my couch.

* * *

I walk into my small-ish living room, sit down on my old maroon couch and smirk at the faded yellow envelope in my hand.

Apparently, they did have paper.

I open the envelope and begin to read.

'_To Sasori,'_

I raise my eyebrow. Wasn't that a bit unceremonious? Oh well.

At least they could write.

'_The name's Deidara._

_No last name. Just Deidara._

_I'm a guy, if you couldn't tell._

_You're pretty unlucky, ain't you? It seems that you did get a moron for your pen-pal. Try not to commit suicide, m'kay?'_

I twitch. Wow, I guess it is possible to get pissed off at a piece of paper.

'_I'm blond, naturally. Stereotypes are pretty apt, aren't they?_

_Hey, we actually agree. I don't give two shits about the army. I only joined because I won't amount to anything. Literally._

_I'm not gonna laugh at you for the 'Avon' thing. Unless you're the make-up model. Then I'll laugh my ass off._

_I'm not going to tell you my actual birthday. It's not exactly important. I will tell you that I'm a Taurus. _

_My parents are dead, too. I'm not going to tell you what happened. No offense, but I don't really like telling a personal thing like that to a freakin' piece of paper._

_Your friends are insane? Welcome to tha' club. My only friend is a freaking idiot with ADHD. Annoying as hell._

_I'm asexual, too. Life's too short for love, honestly._

_My favorite color's red. I don't have a favorite food; as long as it's not pilaf it's fine._

_Pilaf is gross._

_I was born in Japan; Hiroshima, if you want details. My dad grew up in New York, so I grew up speaking both Japanese and English. When my parents died I was raised by my uncle in Hoboken. It's pretty close to NY._

_I like proverbs, and I quote them when they make sense._

_I'm a realist. And I've never had a real reason to be depressed._

_I'm sort of a pyromaniac, and an arsonist. That's most likely why I joined the army, but you can have your own theory._

_I never got to finish high school. Dropped out junior year for a reason I won't tell you._

_I'm also not going to tell you how old I am. Haha. Who's the freakin' jackass now?_

_Sorry for writing such a short letter, but since you know I'm stupid, you probably won't write back._

_If you do, I'll tell you some other random things that I spontaneously did not here._

_Confused? You should be._

_-Deidara'_

I frown at his message, and then reread it. This guy certainly was… interesting.

It took me a few minutes to realize I had already begun to write Deidara a letter.

* * *

January 27, 2013;

'_To Sasori,_

_Ugh. My roomie's a freaking moron. He spilled water _all _over my notebook. Then I had to wait two hours for the pages to dry before sending this to you. Honestly. These letters are the only thing keeping me sane._

_I need to argue with someone. Honestly, arguing with my friend is like arguing with a door post. Or a GPS. All three are totally jack._

_Which reminds me. Art is fleeting, you douche._

_-Deidara'_

January 30, 2013;

'_Dear Deidara,_

_I find your roommate both nauseating and amusing. Amusing because he annoys you to the point of suicide._

_Besides, since when were _you_ ever sane?_

_I whole-heartedly disagree with you. Art is most definitely eternal._

_Sincerely,_

_Sasori Akasuna'_

February 1, 2013;

'_To Sasori,_

_I've been sane ever since your douche bag-esque way of speaking and/or writing made me so. You should be a freakin' shrink. All of your patients would be cured in a matter of minutes._

_Also… Geijutsu wa isshun, kansuidesu!* _

_Try arguing with that._

_My roomie read some of the letters. He thinks you're a girl._

_And that we're flirting._

_I am very much disturbed._

_-Deidara'_

February 4, 2013;

'_Dear Deidara,_

_Do you speak from experience? I wouldn't be surprised, honestly. Who blows shit up for fun?_

_Art is eternal, stupid. You do realize that I have Google translate, right? I'm not an idiot._

_And for that last part…_

_No comment._

_What's your roomie's name? He reminds me of my best friend. That guy is a serious perv. I found a bunch of play-boys in his room. You don't want to know what was on them._

_I'd also like to know how old you are. I'd be very bothered if you were, like, fifty-eight. That would be creepy…_

_Sincerely, _

_Sasori Akasuna'_

February 6, 2013;

'_To Sasori,_

_Hell yes, I speak from experience. But, didn't you say you were diagnosed as clinically depressed? Doesn't that mean you visited a shrink as well? That question was rhetorical._

_I honestly didn't know that you had Google translate. From the way you write I had assumed that you didn't have a computer. Then again, I suppose even douche bags get bored._

_My roomie's name is Madara, nickname's Tobi. He's not a pervert, but he's… a hopeless romantic, honestly. And he may or may not be bi-curious. I know what was on the play-boys. I'd be afraid to enter his room after that. Check his house for sex-slaves._

_I'm not fifty-eight. I'm fifty-seven._

_Nah, I'm just kidding. But seriously though, I'm not fifty-eight. Subtract forty-one from fifty-eight. That's my age. Don't be all shocked, you probably saw that coming. My birthday's in May, so I'm technically a legal adult. Technically._

_Dropped out of school two years ago, and I've been in the army for almost as long._

_Don't ask me how a sixteen year-old managed to enroll in the army. I think we were really short of footmen. (AKA, kids ready to commit suicide.)_

_But I haven't committed suicide. Yet, anyway._

_-Deidara'_

February 7, 2013;

'_Dear Deidara,_

_I went to a psychiatrist. Not a shrink. There's no difference, but psychiatrist sounds more professional._

_I'm honestly going to ignore that second paragraph. If you were standing beside me when you said/wrote that, I'd probably slap you like the little bitch you are._

_Heh. Even in anger I'm monotonous._

_Madara? As in Madara Uchiha? My best friend Yahiko writes to him. Small world, huh?_

_I trust that you are seventeen, it's just… really hard to believe. I mean, you're out there risking your life to fight the governments fight and you're… you're just a kid! I have developed a sense of respect for you now._

_I know it isn't my problem but… Please don't commit suicide. Don't ask why. Just please don't kill yourself._

_Sincerely,_

_Sasori Akasuna'_

February 9, 2013;

'_To Sasori,_

_Aw. You care about me! Admit it! You do! That's so sweet~_

_I'm just messing with you. But… Thanks. I'm seriously grateful. Before you and Madara, There was no one I could even remotely consider a 'friend.' Thanks. For being there. For existing._

…_And for writing me that first letter._

_You're a really cool guy, Akasuna. You need to get out there, live a little, and laugh a little more. You hate your job. I know it's "practical", and everything but… you want to be an artist._

_So be an artist._

_You might fall down, but you'll get back up. Because you are the most stubborn bastard I've ever known._

_You need to go live, Sasori. For the both of us._

_-Deidara'_

* * *

So that's exactly what Sasori did.

* * *

I'm glad I 'met' Deidara. Because I did, he got me to accomplish a lot of things;

I quit my job-

I walked straight into my boss's room and told her to go fuck herself.

Everyone's reaction was funny as hell.

That's the first time I've laughed since my parents died. And honestly… it felt good.

'_My uncle's still alive. I know it's morbid… but I wish he wasn't. I really do._

_-Deidara'_

I opened my own art shop-

It's pretty small and kind of dusty, but it's getting there. I make about ten bucks a day, and it pays all of my bills and leaves enough to buy food. It's not much but I enjoy it. And that's all that really counts.

Deidara would be proud of me.

'_From the time between when my parents died (age three) to just before I joined the army (age sixteen), my uncle hit me. Hard._

_I had to wear make-up to cover the bruises. Had to pretend that I was okay. I got a lot of practice with lying._

_-Deidara'_

I talk to and see my friends daily-

All of them. Even Deidara.

As soon as I got that letter from Deidara, I called Yahiko and initiated an Akatsuki get together at our old hang-out. When I got there I was grinning, and that grin soon to laughter when I saw the incredulous looks on my friend's faces.

Konan questioned if I was alright, and Hidan asked Yahiko, with a few choice swear words, if he injected me with anti-depressants.

I just realized how much I love my friends.

'_I'm not going to amount to anything. Really, I'm not._

_I was diagnosed with a disease that causes my lungs to swell and bleed. I can cough out all of the blood, but only expensive surgery will stop and remove the swelling. I can't afford that surgery, and because of that, it'll continue to swell until it'll close off my lungs and make me die a slow, painful death. _

_This is estimated to happen when I turn twenty-two._

_I can't accomplish much in that amount of time._

_-Deidara'_

I cleaned up my house-

This is honestly self-explanatory, but if Deidara never told me to get off my lazy-ass, I'd never do it.

I found an old picture of me and my parents and my first ever puppets, Hiruko and Sandaime.

I owe Deidara big time.

'_I have a little brother._

_When my parents died, we were sent to different people. He was sent to our grandfather, and I was sent to our mother's brother. Both were our respective godfathers. I think my parents did that on purpose._

_They used to lock me outside on Christmas._

_-Deidara'_

I met him-

I met Deidara. That's a huge perk in itself.

* * *

I laugh as Kakuzu pours his Coke on Hidan's head. Then laugh even harder as a swearing Hidan chases Kakuzu out of the Burger Shop we are eating in.

Itachi raises an eyebrow at me, but says nothing. Turns out he's Madara's distant cousin. Go figure.

"Sasori," says Konan, pouting slightly, "I'm happy that you're content for once, but honestly, the thought of a happy-go-lucky Sasori scares the _shit_ out of me. What _apocalyptic_ force caused this _drastic_ change?"

Hidan, suddenly back from trying to murder (and/or rape. It's the same thing with Hidan) Kakuzu, drapes his arms around me and declares, "He's either an Alien in disguise as Saso, or… he got laid!" He taps his chin, pretending to ponder, and muses, "Considering this is Sasori… it's prob'ly the former."

I poke him in the cheek with my plastic fork and mutter, "At least I have done the latter…"

Kisame gasps from his seat on the other side of the table. "No death threats? It's the Armageddon!"

Everyone, including me, burst out laughing.

My friends are freaking morons.

But they're _my_ morons.

* * *

Yahiko walks into my apartment and whistles. "Wow, when there's no shit in here, this place is kinda nice."

"I know!" I exclaim, "Did you know that my bedroom has a closet?"

Yahiko blinks. "Wait a second," asks the ginger confusedly, "You have a _bedroom_?"

I roll my eyes and pick his book off the kitchen table, tossing it to him with disdain. "Here's your… porno."

Yahiko blinks at me and grins. "This isn't mine," he states cheekily, "This is my grandad's."

I suddenly feel queasy. "Dude!" I exclaim, "What if your little cousin reads this?"

"Sasori," he retorts playfully, "Naru's fifteen. He'll probably just get an erection from reading this. Nothing more or less."

I twitch as a dark blush stains my cheeks. Ew. Ew. Ew. Get those images out of my head. Ew. Ew. Ew. They are officially wiped from my memory…

"You're frickin' sick," I spit out, narrowing my eyes at him.

"I know," he laughs, ruffling my hair, "Now, let's call up the others and go to the bar."

* * *

When Yahiko and I got to the bar, Hidan was (naturally) already drunk.

The bar wasn't that big or popular, but it still had the blaring music, good drinks, and skanks in stripper heels. I sat down in the seat next to Hidan, his drunk rambling turning into my white-noise. I can't help but think that Deidara would probably ramble. I mean, if he was here…

Okay Sasori. You barely even know him. Stop depressing yourself.

I smile as the others tell the waitress to bring the first round, and drink the beer quickly.

Why do I feel like something horrible is going on?

He's fine, Sasori.

It's not like he's going to die, right?

I've already drunken four beers, and, being a lightweight, am completely drunk. My vision is fuzzy, but my heart keeps dropping. What's going on? Why am I being so paranoid? My friends are asking me if I'm alright, but I stand and smile and ask if Kisame (the only completely sober one) could drive me home. He reluctantly agrees and leads me out into his car.

My heart beat is really fast now. Why am I so afraid? Nothing has happened… right? Right?

I open the front door and my heart stops. A letter was lying on may floor, presumably being pushed through my mail slot.

Deidara wrote me a letter.

I pick up the letter and stumble into my living room, haphazardly opening the envelope and reading the letter. My heart stops.

I drop the paper and stare wide eyed at the wall.

* * *

'_To Sasori,_

_A great man once said, "You fall several times- you get up eight."_

_As soon as I heard that, I thought of you. Because your life is like a rollercoaster. Because your parents died, and then you grew up to be my life's motivation._

_The only real reason _you're_ falling is because people are tripping you._

_I really wish I grew up in New York. Then I would have met you._

_But if I did that, then, I guess Madara would be tripping, huh?_

_But still. I only hope that we'll meet each other eventually. For real. _

_I'm stalling, aren't I?_

_What_ _I'm trying to say is…_

_I've been assigned to a Kamikaze mission. It's a suicide bombing and…_

_And I'm not going to come back._

_-Deidara'_

**A/N: Hate me? :D**

***"Art is fleeting, douche!"**

**I haven't finished- or started- chappie three. I have a lot to think about... like, Minecraft. My farm on that takes shit loads of work to manage. D:**


	3. Fate Owes Me

**A/N: Holy fuck, I'm such a horrible author. I'm so sorry, guys! It's been monthes since I last posted, and I feel horrible. I've had writer's block for War Note ever since the last chapter, since I'm a noobish dweeb who plotted out the first and second chapter but not the third. But, thanks to your reviews, AkiYamazaki's beatings and scoldings (Love you too, Aki,) and my incredible guilt, I _finally_ completed it. I know, the extra 1500 words aren't even close to an apology, but at least I tried. I am freaking relieved right now.**

'_To Sasori,_

_A great man once said, "You fall several times- you get up eight."_

_As soon as I heard that, I thought of you. Because your life is like a rollercoaster. Because your parents died, and then you grew up to be my life's motivation._

_The only real reason _you're_ falling is because people are tripping you._

_I really wish I grew up in New York. Then I would have met you._

_But if I did that, then, I guess Madara would be tripping, huh?_

_But still. I only hope that we'll meet each other eventually. For real. _

_I'm stalling, aren't I?_

_What_ _I'm trying to say is…_

_I've been assigned to a Kamikaze mission. It's a suicide bombing and…_

_And I'm not going to come back._

_-Deidara'_

* * *

I take in messy red hair and bloodshot grey-brown eyes. I take in long blonde hair and blue eyes. I take in messy red hair and grey-brown eyes. I take in long blonde hair and blue eyes. I take in messy red hair and grey-brown eyes.

I think I'm going insane.

I sigh and rub my temples soothingly, my actions calming the ache in my head but not the ache in my chest.

It wouldn't even mind it that much, but under these circumstances…

I mean, I haven't… hadn't ever even _met_ him. Why am so miserable? Why is he always plaguing my mind? I can't… I can't stop thinking about him. I can't-

I splash my face with a handful of cold water, leaning over the sink to make sure it didn't get on my clothes.

Just keep it together, Sasori. Everything will be fine.

_No it won't_. _He's dead. It won't be fine._

You haven't met him.

_He was your life's inspiration._

He was an annoying brat.

_You were an annoying douche._

I sigh harshly and bang my head on the bathroom cabinet, the water soaking into my red hair.

I knew my subconscious was right. I knew Deidara's death was getting to me. I knew I was sad.

I just didn't know what to do about it.

* * *

A loud ringing woke me up from my slumber.

I growl savagely, leaning over and glaring at my phone.

It didn't seem fazed.

I pluck my handset from the receiver and checked the name.

'_Incoming call from _PINCUSHION.'

I sigh harshly, my lips curling up into a sneer. Why the hell was Yahiko calling this early?! I press 'TALK' and push the phone to my ear impatiently. "What do you want?"

"_Aw. Two weeks since I last spoke to you and that's the first thing you say? I'm wounded, Saso~"_

"Shut up," I mutter, mildly irritated, "You shouldn't have called this early. I'm busy."

"_Busy doing what? I don't think drooling over a pillow counts as 'busy,' Sasori."_

I growl savagely and glare at the phone.

I think it started to shiver.

"Whatever," I say coolly, "Why'd you call?"

"_The others and I were speaking about you-"_

"Wait, what?!"

"_And we came to a conclusion. You need to get out more."_

"So what?" I mutter, slightly sulky that they were talking about me behind my back.

"_Soooooo, you're coming to the park with us. Now."_

I twitch. "And did I agree with that?"

"_No. But we're making you come anyways. No objections."_

I twitch again as Yahiko hung up on me. He was probably laughing right now.

I sigh and consent, walking to the front of my apartment and pulling on my red hoodie, then slipping on my blue converse.

Then I proceeded to take them off as I realized that I was only wearing a baggy sleep-shirt and my boxers.

* * *

The park was only about two kilometres away, so I walked there.

My heart sped up at the sight of every blond, at the thought of one being him, that he'd walk over to me, tell me he was pulling my leg, tell me that he was okay. Or even that I'd come home and there'd be a letter from him pushed through the letter slot, telling me that he was okay. Tell me that he was okay.

But it'd had already been two weeks and that hadn't happened yet.

_Tell me he's okay._

As I near the park, I see Hidan waving me over like a madman, yelling, "Oi! Woodcock! OI! _Here_, Puppetfucker!"

I roll my eyes as mothers cover their children's ears and glare darkly at the albino.

After all, their angel children would be cussing like that eventually.

Kakuzu whacks Hidan over the head, making him whine and pout whilst melodramatically moaning out curses. I roll my eyes a second time, making my way over to the dumbasses.

"Heeeeeey, Saso. S'up?" Yahiko characteristically grinned at me, his face lighting up (literally) as the sun hit his piercings and blinded me for a moment. I winced and covered my eyes until a cloud painted over the sun.

Sighing in relief, I finally answered him. Looking up slightly, I matter-of-factly intoned, "The sky."

The others chuckled slightly, and Yahiko stuck his (pierced) tongue out at me childishly.

_Please, please let him be okay._

Hidan began rambling purposelessly, and the vibe that Kakuzu gave off made me and the rest of the moderately-intelligent members take a few steps back. The expression on the tan man's face radiated, 'Hidan-I-swear-to-god-if-you-don't-shut-the-hell-up-I'll-drag-you-home-on-a-piece-of-sandpaper-pour-lemon-juice-on-your-cuts-rip-of-your-dick-and-then-shove-it-up-your-ass.'

Or something like that.

Kisame and Itachi were currently in a deep conversation consisting on _just_ small-talk. I swear to god if Kisame mentions how 'delightful' the weather is one more time I'll murder myself.

Well… Not that I wasn't already planning to do that…

Konan and Yahiko were currently getting a few bottles of water for us all at a snack stand. I could see them standing in line at the other side of the park. Yahiko's bright orange hair is like a beacon, I swear.

I have the strange feeling that an airplane is going to mistake the park for a landing pad.

I smiled faintly. Actually, just being around my happy-chappy overly optimistic friends was making me feel a bit better. Maybe I should come out of my hermit-hole more often…

Nah.

Konan and Yahiko strolled back to where Kakuzu was currently pushing Hidan's head into a fountain. They only paid the two a passing glance and continued walking towards the more rational- albeit more boring- members of the group.

Then Yahiko characteristically ran back and poured one of the water bottles on Kakuzu's head.

…And promptly started a water fight.

Itachi and I ducked behind the memorial statue of Alexander Hamilton, both of us holding a water bottle in our hands, with a few thrown unceremoniously into Itachi's book bag. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a smallish ballpoint pen. I rammed the pen haphazardly into random spots in the plastic (me, being too lazy to be OCD at the moment) and threw it above the statue into the grounds where Hidan and Yahiko crouched, Itachi following my lead almost right after, but instead of punching holes into it, he just simply took off the bottle's cap.

The Uchiha and I rolled army style across the opening and squatted behind a bush.

The water fight picked up. Kakuzu shoved an open bottle downwards into Hidan's pants, Kisame dumped three bottles onto Itachi's head consecutively, Yahiko gained a large and rather nasty bruise when laughing at Konan, who looked like an uncomfortable, wet cat, who promptly nailed him in the face with a fully-capped water bottle.

Then, the others decided it would be fun to gang up and chase me around the park while nailing me with water balloons and left-over uncapped water flasks.

By the end of the fight, everyone was soaked, tired, and felt sort of violated. During the fight, Konan and Kakuzu were hiding in a tree, and a branch caught onto her shirt and ripped it, revealing most of her huge boo- ahem, I mean cleavage. Not to mention, I can't count how many times Hidan was pantsed and/or forced to streak.

Luckily for Konan, Yahiko had a pin in his book bag which he grudgingly gave up after joint whacks to the head by Kisame and I.

Unluckily for Hidan, true to the aforementioned vibe I described, Kakuzu actually _did_ bring sandpaper to the park.

I almost feel bad for the poor guy. …Well, I would…

…That is, if the sandpaper hadn't given him an erection.

I'm scarred for life. Stupid, injudicious, paraphilac arsehole…

…With no moral values…

…Or correctly viewed religion,

…Or accurate standards…

…Or correct self-value…

…Or correct view on art…

…With a huge amount of imp-like, wry, sarcastic humor…

…And ability to see the beauty in things that have none…

I twitch inwardly, making my friends look a bit concerned for my well-being.

And sanity.

I realized that my insults to Hidan erratically changed into wistful musing about Deidara.

And now I'm depressed again.

Tell me he's fine. Tell me he's fine. Tell me he's fine. Tell me he's fine. Tell me he's fine. Tell me he's fine. Tell me he's me he's me he's me he's me he's me he's me he's fineTell me he's fineTell me he's fineTell me he's finetellmehe'sfinetellmehe'sfinetellmehe'sfinetellmehe'sfinetellmehe'sfinefinefinefinefinefinefin efineeeeeeeeee

I feel like an Army wife. I deadpan at the thought, my friends only giving me a passing glance. They learned that I was temperamental years ago.

I swear I'll never roll my eyes at a 'Chicken Soup for the Soul' book again.

My life is so horribly trite.

I was born in a different country. I came to America as a semi-legal immigrant. My parents died when I was five, in a car crash, no less. I was raised by a slightly senile old bat who kept forgetting my name (I love Granny Chiyo to bits, but she drives me insane sometimes.) I grew up not knowing how to trust. I had no friends in elementary or middle school. My high school/collage friends were very distant.

Then, I wrote a letter to an even _more_ corny (and more or less clichely unpredictable) soldier fighting for our country. Somehow we became good friends despite the fact we have never met. I learnt to trust him, despite the fact I've only known him for a few months. My life changed for the better. I became happy. Quit my shitty job. Have gotten my dream occupation. Became closer to my friends, and actually started _smiling_…

And then he dies, and I retreat to my old, stupidly stoic, way too self-reliant self.

Fate owes me big time for having to put up with this shit. I swear to god, if I don't win the lottery this month I'm screwing it all and moving to Bangladesh to become a sheep-herder.

I heard that that was a good profession for the mentally insane.

Around me, my friends have flocked together and are laughing at some random joke or idiotic comment sputtered out by Hidan. I don't, however, considering I never heard the joke, and I was never one to pretend for the benefit of others.

The others stopped laughing and stared at me I half-glared at them and irritably inquired, "Why are you all looking at me like I have seven heads?"

Hidan quickly responded, "Because you do," but was quickly locking in a head-lock by Kakuzu, who seems intent on killing the unfortunate sadomasochist someday.

Konan frowned sadly and muttered, "You're turning back, Saso. You seemed like you were getting better…" Her concerned honey-amber eyes stared holes into me. I guess my friends aren't as oblivious as I thought.

"Turning back into what, exactly, Konan?" I articulated unemotionally, raising my eyebrow slightly and playing the ignorant card. The way I spoke actually scared me a bit. Was I really turning back?

The words that the brat wrote to me sounded in my head, complete with a smooth, boyish voice that I created to impersonate Deidara to recite them. _'You might fall down, but you'll get back up. Because you are the most stubborn bastard I've ever known.'_

Konan looked frightened and dejected. I wanted to go back and respond again, but I can't, and apologizing would make me look like a two-face, so I did what I always did;

Pretend to be a heartless asshole and hope that everything cleared itself up, while I sat in a corner writing emo poetry.

It was a good plan. I liked that plan. But, unfortunately, other people didn't like that plan.

So that's why Konan slapped me hard across the face.

"You're such a dick, you know that!" Konan shouted. She glared at me, the stare cutting into me like a knife, "I'm fucking worried about you and all you can do is make a smart-assed remark and pretend that we'll keep on caring whether you're alive or not and worry about you nonstop! That's fucking unfair, and you know it, too, _Akasuna!"_

Her accusations hurt a lot more than the slap. Mainly because they were all true.

She continued glaring at me, probably expecting exactly what I was going to say next. So I did it.

I stared apologetically into her eyes and murmured, "I'm sorry."

Seemingly, though, she didn't expect it. Her eyes widened and her mouth mashed into a tight white line. We stared at each other for a while, the other members staring at us in turn. Konan was the one who broke the silence. "I…" she swallowed slightly, her voice small and shaky, "I think we deserve an explanation, Sasori."

* * *

So I gave them one.

* * *

It's been a few days since the day at the park, and I've gotten worse in some ways, and better in others.

I'm still sad. I'm still delusional. I'm still annoyingly sentimental.

But at least now I'm doing something about it.

I've gotten a few puppets done, and a few of the older ones have been sold. I'm still keeping up with the rent and am paying the bills. I can also afford food and art supplies. I can't, however afford possessions for personal use, but whatever. I figure that once my shop will become popular, I'll be able to come up with the money for anything I want.

Yay, optimism. I feel like a dweeb.

I've also come up with a name for the art shop.

No, it isn't 'Deidara' or anything sappy like that.

It's called 'War Note's.' …Which isn't much better, now that I think about it.

Oh well.

I deftly carve almond-shaped eye-sockets into the warm umber wood. It's shesham wood, which is usually the type of lumber that I use for puppets. It's easily carved, highly durable, and attractive. …Okay, why am I talking about wood?

I sighed and rolled my eyes at myself, turning the sharp carving knife to flick the shavings out of the socket without nicking the rest of the wood. The body of this particular puppet lay neatly on the floor beside me. I usually work on the body before the head, considering the face was usually the hardest to make. Was the puppet sad or happy? Was their facial feature delicate and sympathetic, or rough and sharp? What color hair and eyes?

As I take out a pencil and mark out the outline of the mouth, my phone rings. I rolled my eyes for the fifty-seventh time that day and picked up the cell to check who was calling. Almost inevitably, the screen read, '_Incoming call from _PINCUSHION_.'_ I clicked 'Accept' and placed the phone by my ear, cocking my neck to cradle it between my ear and shoulder while continuing to neatly mark off dimensions. "I'm busy, Yahiko."

"_I don't think drooling on your pillow counts as 'busy,' Saso."_

I raised my eyebrow, staring, vexed, at the half-finished puppet head. "Yahiko," I stated exasperatedly, "I'm working on my puppets."

"_Exactly."_

I snorted at him in both amusement and annoyance. "So, why'd you call?"

"_Well, uh, apparently, my long-lost cousin or something just came back from fighting in the war, so you can come and maybe… he'll have known Deidara? I mean, uh, if you want. You don't… _have _to come. It's just an offer, um…"_

I love how he's talking to me like I'm a depressed suicidal.

I snickered at him. I've never heard or seen Yahiko, the inappropriate- perverted, oblivious, loser- feel awkward. Ever. "Yeah, I'll come," I answered in a bored manner, shrugging slightly, "It's not like I have anything else to do."

My ginger-headed friend's bright smile could almost be felt through the phone line. _"Great! Come to tha' hospital at 5:00. It's the 'reunion,' or something like that."_

"Fine."

"_See ya~"_

I pushed the 'hang up' button and turned to the clock to check the time. It read '4:57.' The hospital is fifteen minutes away.

I swore.

* * *

After sprinting to the clinic (and getting there several minutes late,) I met up with Yahiko, his grandfather Jiraiya (who raised him) and his younger cousin Naruto (who Jiraiya _also_ raised.)

Naruto was aptly rambling about how he couldn't _wait_ see his older brother again… and something about a magical sweater. The poor kid needed to be enrolled into a mental hospital.

Jiraiya was listening intensely to Naruto, hoping to find out more about his 'long-lost kin.' Yahiko and I, however, zoned out after Naruto mentioned a purple zebra.

I glanced around. Women and children were embracing injured men in camouflage uniforms. They were all smiling in relief, laughing as tears ran down their faces. I wanted to be happy for them- I really did, but all I could think was 'Did Deidara know any of these men?' which led to 'Were they in the same troop?' which led to 'Why weren't _they _the ones dying?'

I swallowed uneasily. Maybe I should've stayed home. Suddenly, I felt a finger tap me on the shoulder almost shyly. Turning around perplexedly, I noted that it was Naruto.

He smiled timidly-something I first thought that Naruto wasn't capable of- and asked, "Uh, Sasori, did you care about Deidara? Like, a lot?"

I blinked and nodded slowly, not sure where he was going with this.

"Then he's still alive," stated Naruto positively, beaming, "If you love something, let it free. If it loves you back, it'll come home. Besides, fate owes you."

I smiled hesitantly back at him. Even though I knew what Naruto said wasn't true, something inside of me wanted to believe it.

I looked around again. Potted plants stood peacefully in each corner, surrounding long lilac-white benches without backrests. The walls were sterile white, and the floors were tiled with slates made of stainless steel. It looked both peaceful and unsettling at the same time. The smell of chemicals stung my nose and forced me to shallowly breathe through my mouth.

Yahiko was looking around almost frantically at the opening and closing of each door.

"Madara?" I asked him, knowing how he felt completely.

He looked at me almost sympathetically, nodded slowly, and responded, "Yeah. He said he might be here, if he didn't have a mission."

I nodded too. He was worried about him. I could tell.

And then I was faced with reality.

Madara might not come back from that mission, just like Deidara didn't come back from his. Shivers ran down my spine.

'_And I'm not going to come back,' _recited the boyish voice calmly, _'And I'm not going to come back. And I'm not going to come back. And I'm not going to come back. And I'm not going to come back. And I'm not going to come back. AndI'mnotgoingtocomebackAndI'mnotgoingtocomebackAndI'mnotgoingtocomebackAndI'mnotgoingtocomebacknotcoming backnotcomingback.'_

Naruto's voice sounded, too, _'It'll come home. It'll come home. It'll come home. It'll come homeIt'llcomehomeit'llcomehomeIt'llcomehomeIt'llcomehome.'_

**'**_**AndI'mnotgoingtocomebackIt'llcomehomeAndI'mnotgoingtocomebackIt'llcomehome.'**_

I honestly don't know _what_ to believe anymore.

Yay, more optimism.

I turned to Yahiko. "Oi, where's your cousin?" I asked, raising my eyebrow slightly.

He blinked at me. "Eh? Oh, he got pretty badly wounded on his last mission. We'll be allowed to see him in…" he clucked his tongue and looked down at his watch, "About four or five minutes. Give or take a minute or two."

I nodded leisurely, hiding my inner turmoil. 'Badly wounded'…

I looked around a third time to clear my head. I frowned thoughtfully as I saw a few veterans sitting alone in the corners of the rooms. It was really sad; these men gave their lives for their countries and no one came to visit them or thank them for their deeds. I couldn't help but wonder 'Is that how Madara and Deidara felt when no one sent _them_ letters?'

A nurse came over to us and tapped Jiraiya on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir," she asked, smiling pleasantly, "Are you here for Uzumaki?"

Jiraiya grinned back and nodded, turning to follow the nurse as she led them down the halls.

I hesitated for a second. Did I really want to know if the guy knew Deidara? Would it be rude to intrude in their personal reunion? The answer to both those questions was yes.

So I stood up and followed.

* * *

And when I saw him, half-awake with long flaxen hair and half-lidded stormy eyes, I felt no doubt.

Fate _did_ owe me, after all.

**THE END**

**A/N: I AM FINALLY DONE THIS TRILOGY. YES.**

**Special, huuuuuge thank you to jojo507, Germania, Desaicedancer and AddictedToCorn for your reviews and support. I love you guys! You helped me power through my WB and made me feel fuzzy inside. I feel really guilty for not replying to most of you, and if I did, I probably said something awkward. ^^' Also, thanks to the anonymus reviewer Me, who also reviewed and made me feel fuzzy insade. Haha!**

**Thanks also to AkiYamazaki, who, despite giving me eight bruises, also helped me through my WB. :)**

**I love everyone who's reviewed and read WN, and, for the most part, had a fun time writing this. So thanks a lot!**

**Morbid ish out~~~~~~~**


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